People's Avenue. Chapter 533.
I know I have skipped Chapter 531. I am working have been working on it for days. It is going to be a doozy. I am going to put a lot of it behind the paywall. Nothing I am going to say will be a surprise. It is more general than New Orleans-specific. Fasten your seatbelts for when Chapter 531 appears. It will not interrupt the narrative flow, such as it is.
I am going to talk about People’s Avenue in New Orleans today, again. I am revisiting old subjects to see if I can recast them in a new light, if not a new lingo.
Either Goldy I or Goldy II was poking around behind the black Madonna in the back garden. I cannot tell them apart.
It was one or the other. It makes no difference. They are chickens.
I like that bend where People’s Avenue starts, where People’s Street turns into People’s Avenue, right after Acacia Street. The part that runs alongside the canal and the train tracks on one side, and Clover Street, and Lavender Street, and Jonquil Street, and Gladiolus Street, and Verbena Street, and Jasmine Street, and Wisteria Street, and Gentilly Boulevard.
Street names in New Orleans are so romantic, are they not? Of course they are.
Lakeside of Gentilly Boulevard, things get weird on People’s Avenue. The next street is Lombard Street, followed by Carnot, and, then, Mirabeau Avenue.
This is a true story. Mirabeau’s heart was preserved in a jar of alcohol and hung from the ceiling in Jacobin Hall. That was in Paris, not in New Orleans.
The Jacobin Hall in New Orleans had a pig’s heart in a jar suspended by a chain from the ceiling. Coincidentally, a pig’s heart is the same size as a human’s heart. No one knew the difference except those in the know.
The Jacobin Hall in New Orleans was not on Mirabeau Street. That part of New Orleans was just swamp and miasma back then, not the paradise that it is now. The Jacobin Hall in New Orleans was in the back of town, around the corner from my house.
I love People’s Avenue. It is one of my favorite streets in New Orleans. You should become a paid subscriber. Everything comes up either daisies or Queen Ann’s lace. I pawned a box of trombones.